


Presentation

by MissTeaVee



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby is so good at making friends it's probably mind control, Gen, but can't tell people apart if they all have the same helmet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: Baby has to meet the clan at some point.I just wanted a scene like the videos where the baby can’t tell dad and dad’s twin brother apart.
Comments: 86
Kudos: 2056





	Presentation

The message, when it comes, is a relief. Din looks at it and leans back in his pilot’s seat. The message from his clan is short; an image of planetary coordinates and a short message, written in the old Mandalorian script.

He sighs softly, sending no confirmation in return. Instead he turns to look at the kid, smiling under his helmet to see that he’s still distracted chewing on a toy that had been provided on Sorgan. But seeing that silver helmet turned towards him, the child brightens, ears lifting, the tips vibrating just a little, a delighted giggle bursting out of the small mouth.

That trust and adoration from one so small never fails to punch Din in the chest. He leans over to check that the baby is still safe and secure in his seat, just in case someone else comes at them in space. “Well buddy, looks like it’s time for you to meet the Tribe.”

The baby coos, gripping at his guardian’s gloved hand, and Din can’t resist wiggling his fingers to make the kid giggle again before pulling away to punch in new hyperspace coordinates.

Once the stars have turned to blurred light, Din glances over his shoulder to watch the boy. He’s seen foundlings introduced to the clan before; hell, he was a foundling introduced to the clan once. He knows that not everyone is human under their mask. He knows, logically, that his actions to rescue the child will likely bring approval from most of his clan. There is a word in Mando’a for a person who did experiments on children, a name from history, now turned into a description of one who had done unspeakable evil. Someone who must be stopped at any cost.

_Demagolka._

He still fears that the child could be rejected. Some part of his heart wonders if it’ll be him, not the child, who is rejected; for he brought the infant to the Imperials, and though he went back within a day…

He sighs softly and reaches for his helmet. Even now, in his ship, alone but for the child that is his own, he hesitates a moment. Then he pulls off the gleaming mask to make sure it’s clean. He glances back when he hears the kid-he really should think up a name, but something always makes him stop- coo, and the baby returns his gaze, ears drooping slowly.

“What?” He asks, giving the little one a smile. “Come on, we’ve been over this, it’s still me.”

The familiar voice reassures the kid, who returns to gnawing on his toy, and Din chuckles, wiping down his helmet and pulling it back on.

Then he tends to the rest of his armour, wanting it pristine when he reunites with the Covert for more than simple vanity. He’s nervous, and he hates to admit that, he wants to look like everything is under control. But he has no source of income; the bridge burned with the Guild can’t be rebuilt any time soon. He sighs, slumping back in his seat.

They will survive. They’re Mandalorians. They’ve survived war and purge and uprising before. Imperials, Separatists, the Republic and the coward Pacifists, Jedi and Sith…

His eyes flicker to the child, and under his helmet, his lips purse. That last thing worries him too. How can he forget that Mudhorn, floating helplessly in the air? It’s been only a scant couple decades since the Jedi order has been wiped out; (The only good thing the empire did, mutter the older Mandalorians.) but Mandalorians knew the lore, they knew what to watch for.

Was a child with those abilities allowed to join a Mandalorian clan? Or would Din be forced to give up his little charge? Some part of him is convinced that the boy is too strange to become part of the Tribe; it’s why he’d thought to leave him behind on Sorgan, where he was welcomed. But… well. That’s not an option; somehow the peace and quiet of the remote planet had made Din forget that. In honestly, leaving the kid with the clan isn’t really an option either; a tracking fob would lead Bounty Hunters right into whatever hideaway the Mandalorians made for themselves.

Still, he knows it has to happen, so he prepares himself mentally.

\---

When he walks into the new hideaway, Din slows to take in the set up, inclining his head to the warrior guarding the entrance. He receives a nod in return before pressing inwards. He knows who will confront him first, and he figures it’s best to get the usual posturing with Vizla over and done with.

Sure enough, he spots the heavy gunner leaned up against a doorway, watching him. Din approaches and pauses a couple arms’ lengths away, deliberately pausing to adjust his cape, which has been tossed over his shoulder to hide the precious, sleeping cargo that he’s carrying in a makeshift sling under his arm.

Vizla unfolds from his position and leans over a little, surprised. “That’s what the bondsmen want you dead over?”

His voice is enough to get attention, some of the others drifting over to see what Din has. Din nods, letting out a huff. “Yeah, worth a Comtano of Beskar to the Imperials.”

“An infant,” Vizla’s head shakes slightly, tone disbelieving. The child is waking up as Din pulls him out of the sling, blinking those big solemn eyes around at the masked faces watching the scene. A curious coo escapes the kid, small clawed hands grasping at Din’s chestplate.

“Maybe a toddler, hard to say,” says Din, looking down at the little guy, who is staring at Vizla, ears twitching. “I need to take him to the-”

He’s interrupted by a loud giggle from the baby, who wiggles unexpectedly in Din’s grasp and reaches out towards Paz Vizla with a big smile. Din is surprised despite himself; the kid loves attention, of course, but he rarely demands that someone hold him. “Hm. Here.”

“Ah?” Vizla’s not unwilling to be handed the baby that wants his attention, though he clearly has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. Din would sympathise-He’s picked up the poor kid by the scruff of his clothes more than once for want of a better technique- but some petty part of him rejoices at seeing his tribesman disconcerted. Still, the baby seems pleased, staring up at Vizla’s helmet with a satisfied giggle. Then he notices Din and blinks, looking back at the heavy gunner now holding him, then towards Din.

Then he reaches out to Din with a little “Aaa! Aaa!” that seems to be his way of calling to his caretaker. Din shrugs, taking the kid back from Paz, who seems slightly confused by the whole thing and relieved to be done with that.

“Definitely an infant,” Comments one of the watchers, sounding amused. Din shoots her-Edii a glance, but the voice has the baby looking over curiously, and then reaching for the third Mandalorian with an insistent ‘Aaa! Aaa!’

Edii carefully takes the child, and Din can hear the snicker. After a moment, he realises what’s going on and can’t help but chuckle as the little guy looks satisfied a moment before spotting Paz again, and looking up at Edii, then Din, then back to Paz. Then the kid reaches out to Paz insistently. Paz slowly takes the kid and tries to mimic the secure hold Edii had used.

It’s pretty funny to see that the poor kid, upon finding a whole clan of people with the same ‘face’ as his caretaker, is a bit overwhelmed by the options of whom to demand attention from. The kid’s young enough that he thinks a beskar helmet means Din is there under it. The bounty hunter amuses himself ( and clearly everyone hanging around) by letting the kid get passed back and forth between them whenever the kid decides that someone within sight is the correct ‘Aaa! Aaa!’. The child ends up handed off again, this time to one of the older foundlings, similar in body shape to Din, who has squeezed unimpeded into the center of the group to see what's going on.

Din turns to Vizla, who seems mirthful. “He can’t stay here, I think every still living member of the Guild has a fob on him. I’ve been tracked down twice already.”

Vizla nods, posture slowly frowning. “You need to speak to our Alor?”

“Yes. She may wish to look at him… I can guess at what makes him so valuable to certain people, and she knows our lore best.”

“Hmm,” Vizlsa nods again, gesturing down a hall. “You go. Someone will bring him in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Din says, the Kid is in Rusaan’s arms when he checks this time. She tilts her helmet as the kid giggles, trying to pat at her mask’s silver cheeks. He can tell that the fearless little brat has managed to endear himself to several people by being his winsome little self. Shaking his head fondly, Din walks down the hall to seek out the Forge.

And he’d been worried about how the Clan would take the kid.

**Author's Note:**

> It was going to be a longer fic, but you know what? This is the bit I wanted, so here it is.
> 
> *EDIT: A PODFIC WAS MADE OF THIS STORY https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367299 *

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Presentation [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367299) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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